If Only She Was Enough
by PeridotTea91
Summary: The Mark of Cain is getting louder than ever, so Dean gets knocked-out drunk to numb it. Greer, once again, takes care of him. 2-in-1 Challenge Fic w/ the prompts "I can be the one you call when you're feeling low" and "I sat by the ocean, and drank a potion to forget you".


Greer watched the older hunter before her with a look of exasperation and pity. Dean was utterly shit-faced, face-down on the itchy motel mattress. The Mark had been flaring up again, and Dean decided to, once again, drown out the ringing with copious amounts of alcohol. She genuinely felt terrible for her friend but felt much worse for herself. How many times had she been the one to deal with Dean when he got like this? How many times had, despite Sam offering to help, she turned him down to take care of Dean herself so Sam could get some much-needed sleep?

Greer had known the Winchesters since childhood, having spent so many summers together at Bobby's. But eventually they all grew up, went their separate ways—Sam went to Stanford, Dean went off hunting with his father, and Greer was left behind. She didn't even reconnect with them until years later when Sam had just gotten his soul back. Needless to say, everyone had changed.

Greer shrugged off her jacket and set about getting Dean more comfortable in his drunken stupor. She untied and pulled off his boots, first the left and then the right. She pulled him so that he lay all the way on the bed, instead of half-hanging off of it. Usually, on nights like these, Dean would have gone out and found him a quick lay, not returning until morning while Greer stayed back, feeling like crap.

She wished she was enough for him, wished she was good enough, pretty enough, skinny enough to get his attention. But to Dean, she would always be the little girl chasing after him and Sam; he was, after all, eight years her senior. She tried so hard to prove that she was good enough for him, holding her own fairly well on hunts. But the Winchesters always managed to throw themselves in harm's way for her, even when it wasn't necessary.

Greer was nothing like the girls Dean took home. Dean chased tall, slim, and sexy women, typically having a thing for blondes or redheads. Greer was none of those things. Coming in just at 5'3", Greer could barely stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the girls Dean liked. She wasn't quite overweight, but she sure as hell wasn't model-thin either, with a little bit extra weight around the middle and slightly thicker thighs than most. She didn't dress to the nines or doll up her appearance too much, considering it impractical for hunting. She mostly just wore loose t-shirts and henleys, old jeans, and worn-out boots She rarely did much with her nest of curly hair, and the most makeup she ever wore was just eyeliner and sometimes mascara if she remembered. No, Greer knew that she would never be Dean's type, no matter how badly she wanted to be.

Greer let out a sigh and straightened up, finally having gotten the older hunter situated properly on the bed, albeit at the wrong end. But hey, little victories, right? Greer carefully slid a pillow underneath Dean's head, careful not to wake him. He adjusted slightly but immediately settled again, drooling a bit as he began snoring.

Greer then began to tidy the room a bit, picking up the various empty beer bottles and cans scattered around the room. After making the place more presentable, Greer grabbed up a half-emptied bottle of Jack and watched her drunk friend, deep in thought. It hurt seeing him get like this, seeing him try to drink away the Mark's effects on him. It hurt watching him go out almost every night, knowing that he was probably sleeping with some random barfly with long legs. It hurt knowing that she wasn't enough for him.

Greer sniffed ad took a long drag of the amber liquid, enjoying the burn as it went down. "I don't know how much more I can take, Dean," she stated quietly, watching as Dean's back rose and fell with every breath. "Why aren't I good enough for you? I do everything you ask, I give you everything you ask… So why not me? I had hoped… I had hoped that maybe one day **I can be the one you call when you're feeling low**, but you don't want me… Do you?"

Greer sniffed again, trying to stem the tears from flowing, but failing terribly. Suddenly everything felt too warm and a little suffocating. Needing some space, Greer turned around and walked out the door, taking the bottle of whiskey with her. The night air was cool against her skin, a much welcome relief to the warmth of the motel room. Crossing the parking lot, Greer settled on a slightly damp bench and took another swig.

After a few moments silently sipping the bottle of whiskey, Greer pulled out her phone, plugged in her earphones, and cycled through until something finally spoke to her. Queens of the Stone Age always seemed to speak to her. Despite the upbeat guitar and beat, the words seemed to sink into her bones.

"_**I sat by the ocean and drank a potion to forget you."**_

The lyrics were all too familiar and, on this particular night, spoke to her. Greer took another drink of whiskey and let the melody wash over her as she slowly became numb to the nighttime chill. When Greer finally ran out of whiskey, it was only a few hours before daybreak, with pinks and oranges beginning to tint the skyline. Letting out a yawn, Greer finally headed back to the motel room. Inside, Dean was still dead asleep, snoring away, blissfully unaware that Greer had left and come back. Greer shrugged off her jacket and quietly undressed, careful not to make too much noise. Climbing into bed, Greer silently watched Dean's sleeping form before drifting off herself.

If only she was enough for him.


End file.
